Chapter XXIX

VINICUS received no answer to this letter. Petronius did not write,
thinking evidently that Cæsar might command a return to Rome any day.
In fact, news of it was spread in the city, and roused great delight in
the hearts of the rabble, eager for games with gifts of grain and
olives, great supplies of which had been accumulated in Ostia. Helius,
Nero's freedman, announced at last the return in the Senate. But Nero,
having embarked with his court on ships at Misenum, returned slowly,
disembarking at coast towns for rest, or exhibitions in theatres. He
remained between ten and twenty days in Minturna, and even thought to
return to Naples and wait there for spring, which was earlier than
usual, and warm. During all this time Vinicius lived shut up in his
house, thinking of Lygia, and all those new things which occupied his
soul, and brought to it ideas and feelings foreign to it thus far. He
saw, from time to time, only Glaucus the physician, every one of whose
visits delightcd him, for he could converse with the man about Lygia.
Glaucus knew not, it is true, where she had found refuge, but he gave
assurance that the elders were protecting her with watchful care. Once
too, when moved by the sadness of Vinicius, he told him that Peter had
blamed Crispus for reproaching Lygia with her love. The young
patrician, hearing this, grew pale from emotion. He had thought more
than once that Lygia was not indifferent to him, but he fell into
frequent doubt and uncertainty. Now for the first time he heard the
confirmation of his desires and hopes from strange lips, and, besides,
those of a Christian. At the first moment of gratitude he wished to run
to Peter. When he learned, however, that he was not in the city, but
teaching in the neighborhood, he implored Glaucus to accompany him
thither, promising to make liberal gifts to the poor community. It
seemed to him, too, that if Lygia loved him, all obstacles were thereby
set aside, as he was ready at any moment to honor Christ. Glaucus,
though he urged him persistently to receive baptism, would not venture
to assure him that he would gain Lygia at once, and said that it was
necessary to desire the religion for its own sake, through love of
Christ, not for other objects. "One must have a Christian soul, too,"
said he. And Vinicius, though every obstacle angered him, had begun to
understand that Glaucus, as a Christian, said what he ought to say. He
had not become clearly conscious that one of the deepest changes in his
nature was this,--that formerly he had measured people and things only
by his own selfishness, but now he was accustoming himself gradually to
the thought that other eyes might see differently, other hearts feel
differently, and that justice did not mean always the same as personal
profit.

He wished often to see Paul of Tarsus, whose discourse made him curious
and disturbed him. He arranged in his mind arguments to overthrow his
teaching, he resisted him in thought; still he wished to see him and to
hear him. Paul, however, had gone to Aricium, and, since the visits of
Glaucus had become rarer, Vinicius was in perfect solitude. He began
again to run through back streets adjoining the Subura, and narrow lanes
of the Trans-Tiber, in the hope that even from a distance he might see
Lygia. When even that hope failed him, weariness and impatience began
to rise in his heart. At last the time came when his former nature was
felt again mightily, like that onrush of a wave to the shore from which
it had receded. It seemed to him that he had been a fool to no purpose,
that he had stuffed his head with things which brought sadness, that he
ought to accept from life what it gives. He resolved to forget Lygia,
or at least to seek pleasure and the use of things aside from her. He
felt that this trial, however, was the last, and he threw himself into
it with all the blind energy of impulse peculiar to him. Life itself
seemed to urge him to this course.



THE APPIAN WAY. From the painting by G. Boulanger.


The city, torpid and depopulated by winter, began to revive with hope of
the near coming of Cæsar. A solemn reception was in waiting for him.
Meanwhile spring was there; the snow on the Alban Hills had vanished
under the breath of winds from Africa. Grass-plots in the gardens were
covered with violets. The Forums and the Campus Martius were filled
with people warmed by a sun of growing heat. Along the Appian Way, the
usual place for drives outside the city, a movement of richly ornamented
chariots had begun. Excursions were made to the Alban Hills. Youthful
women, under pretext of worshipping Juno in Lanuvium, or Diana in
Aricia, left home to seek adventures, society, meetings, and pleasure
beyond the city. Here Vinicius saw one day among lordly chariots the
splendid car of Chrysothemis, preceded by two Molossian dogs; it was
surrounded by a crowd of young men and by old senators, whose position
detained them in the city. Chrysothemis, driving four Corsican ponies
herself, scattered smiles round about, and light strokes of a golden
whip; but when she saw Vinicius she reined in her horses, took him into
her car, and then to a feast at her house, which lasted all night. At
that feast Vinicius drank so much that he did not remember when they
took him home; he recollected, however, that when Chrysothemis mentioned
Lygia he was offended, and, being drunk, emptied a goblet of Falernian
on her head. When he thought of this in soberness, he was angrier
still. But a day later Chrysothemis, forgetting evidently the injury,
visited him at his house, and took him to the Appian Way a second time.
Then she supped at his house, and confessed that not only Petronius, but
his lute-player, had grown tedious to her long since, and that her heart
was free now. They appeared together for a week, but the relation did
not promise permanence. After the Falernian incident, however, Lygia's
name was never mentioned, but Vinicius could not free himself from
thoughts of her. He had the feeling always that her eyes were looking
at his face, and that feeling filled him, as it were, with fear. He
suffered, and could not escape the thought that he was saddening Lygia,
or the regret which that thought roused in him. After the first scene
of jealousy which Chrysothemis made because of two Syrian damsels whom
he purchased, he let her go in rude fashion. He did not cease at once
from pleasure and license, it is true, but he followed them out of
spite, as it were, toward Lygia. At last he saw that the thought of her
did not leave him for an instant; that she was the one cause of his evil
activity as well as his good; and that really nothing in the world
occupied him except her. Disgust, and then weariness, mastered him.
Pleasure had grown loathsome, and left mere reproaches. It seemed to
him that he was wretched, and this last feeling filled him with
measureless astonishment, for formerly he recognized as good everything
which pleased him. Finally, he lost freedom, self-confidence, and fell
into perfect torpidity, from which even the news of Cæsar's coming could
not rouse him. Nothing touched him, and he did not visit Petronius till
the latter sent an invitation and his litter.

On seeing his uncle, though greeted with gladness, he replied to his
questions unwillingly; but his feelings and thoughts, repressed for a
long time, burst forth at last, and flowed from his mouth in a torrent
of words. Once more he told in detail the history of his search for
Lygia, his life among the Christians, everything which he had heard and
seen there, everything which had passed through his head and heart; and
finally he complained that he had fallen into a chaos, in which were
lost composure and the gift of distinguishing and judging. Nothing, he
said, attracted him, nothing was pleasing; he did not know what to hold
to, nor how to act. He was ready both to honor and persecute Christ; he
understood the loftiness of His teaching, but he felt also an
irresistible repugnance to it. He understood that, even should he
possess Lygia, he would not possess her completely, for he would have to
share her with Christ. Finally, he was living as if not living,--
without hope, without a morrow, without belief in happiness; around him
was darkness in which he was groping for an exit, and could not find it.

Petronius, during this narrative, looked at his changed face, at his
hands, which while speaking he stretched forth in a strange manner, as
if actually seeking a road in the darkness, and he fell to thinking.
All at once he rose, and, approaching Vinicius, caught with his fingers
the hair above his ear.

"Dost know," asked he, "that thou hast gray hairs on thy temple?"

"Perhaps I have," answered Vinicius; "I should not be astonished were
all my hair to grow white soon."

Silence followed. Petronius was a man of sense, and more than once he
meditated on the soul of man and on life. In general, life, in the
society in which they both lived, might be happy or unhappy externally,
but internally it was at rest. Just as a thunderbolt or an earthquake
might overturn a temple, so might misfortune crush a life. In itself,
however, it was composed of simple and harmonious lines, free of
complication. But there was something else in the words of Vinicius,
and Petronius stood for the first time before a series of spiritual
snarls which no one had straightened out hitherto. He was sufficiently
a man of reason to feel their importance, but with all his quickness he
could not answer the questions put to him. After a long silence, he
said at last,--

"These must be enchantments."

"I too have thought so," answered Vinicius; "more than once it seemed to
me that we were enchanted, both of us."

"And if thou," said Petronius, "were to go, for example, to the priests
of Serapis? Among them, as among priests in general, there are many
deceivers, no doubt; but there are others who have reached wonderful
secrets."

He said this, however, without conviction and with an uncertain voice,
for he himself felt how empty and even ridiculous that counsel must seem
on his lips.

Vinicius rubbed his forehead, and said: "Enchantments! I have seen
sorcerers who employed unknown and subterranean powers to their personal
profit; I have seen those who used them to the harm of their enemies.
But these Christians live in poverty, forgive their enemies, preach
submission, virtue, and mercy; what profit could they get from
enchantments, and why should they use them?"

Petronius was angry that his acuteness could find no reply; not wishing,
however, to acknowledge this, he said, so as to offer an answer of some
kind,--"That is a new sect." After a while he added: "By the divine
dweller in Paphian groves, how all that injures life! Thou wilt admire
the goodness and virtue of those people; but I tell thee that they are
bad, for they are enemies of life, as are diseases, and death itself.
As things are, we have enough of these enemies; we do not need the
Christians in addition. Just count them: diseases, Cæsar, Tigellinus,
Cæsar's poetry, cobblers who govern the descendants of ancient Quirites,
freedmen who sit in the Senate. By Castor! there is enough of this.
That is a destructive and disgusting sect. Hast thou tried to shake
thyself out of this sadness, and make some little use of life?"

"I have tried," answered Vinicins.

"Ah, traitor!" said Petronius, laughing; "news spreads quickly through
slaves; thou hast seduced from me Chrysothemis!"

Vinicius waved his hand in disgust.

"In every case I thank thee," said Petronius. "I will send her a pair
of slippers embroidered with pearls. In my language of a lover that
means, 'Walk away.' I owe thee a double gratitude,--first, thou didst
not accept Eunice; second, thou hast freed me from Chrysothemis. Listen
to me! Thou seest before thee a man who has risen early, bathed,
feasted, possessed Chrysothemis, written satires, and even at times
interwoven prose with verses, but who has been as wearied as Cæsar, and
often unable to unfetter himself from gloomy thoughts. And dost thou
know why that was so? It was because I sought at a distance that which
was near. A beautiful woman is worth her weight always in gold; but if
she loves in addition, she has simply no price. Such a one thou wilt
not buy with the riches of Verres. I say now to myself as follows: I
will fill my life with happiness, as a goblet with the foremost wine
which the earth has produced, and I will drink till my hand becomes
powerless and my lips grow pale. What will come, I care not; and this
is my latest philosophy."

"Thou hast proclaimed it always; there is nothing new in it."

"There is substance, which was lacking."

When he had said this, he called Eunice, who entered dressed in white
drapery,--the former slave no longer, but as it were a goddess of love
and happiness.

Petronius opened his arms to her, and said,--"Come."

At this she ran up to him, and, sitting on his knee, surrounded his neck
with her arms, and placed her head on his breast. Vinicius saw how a
reflection of purple began to cover her cheeks, how her eyes melted
gradually in mist. They formed a wonderful group of love and happiness.
Petronius stretched his hand to a flat vase standing at one side on a
table, and, taking a whole handful of violets, covered with them the
head, bosom, and robe of Eunice; then he pushed the tunic from her arms,
and said,--

"Happy he who, like me, has found love enclosed in such a form! At
times it seems to me that we are a pair of gods. Look thyself! Has
Praxiteles, or Miron, or Skopas, or Lysias even, created more wonderful
lines? Or does there exist in Paros or in Pentelicus such marble as
this,--warm, rosy, and full of love? There are people who kiss off the
edges of vases, but I prefer to look for pleasure where it may be found
really."

He began to pass his lips along her shoulders and neck. She was
penetrated with a quivering; her eyes now closed, now opened, with an
expression of unspeakable delight. Petronius after a while raised her
exquisite head, and said, turning to Vinicius,--"But think now, what are
thy gloomy Christians in comparison with this? And if thou understand
not the difference, go thy way to them. But this sight will cure thee."

Vinicius distended his nostrils, through which entered the odor of
violets, which filled the whole chamber, and he grew pale; for he
thought that if he could have passed his lips along Lygia's shoulders in
that way, it would have been a kind of sacrilegious delight so great
that let the world vanish afterward! But accustomed now to a quick
perception of that which took place in him, he noticed that at that
moment he was thinking of Lygia, and of her only.

"Eunice," said Petronius, "give command, thou divine one, to prepare
garlands for our heads and a meal."

When she had gone out he turned to Vinicius.

"I offered to make her free, but knowest thou what she answered?--'I
would rather be thy slave than Cæsar's wife!' And she would not
consent. I freed her then without her knowledge. The pretor favored me
by not requiring her presence. But she does not know that she is free,
as also she does not know that this house and all my jewels, excepting
the gems, will belong to her in case of my death." He rose and walked
through the room, and said: "Love changes some more, others less, but it
has changed even me. Once I loved the odor of verbenas; but as Eunice
prefers violets, I like them now beyond all other flowers, and since
spring came we breathe only violets."

Here he stopped before Vinicius and inquired,--"But as to thee, dost
thou keep always to nard?"

"Give me peace!" answered the young man.

"I wished thee to see Eunice, and I mentioned her to thee, because thou,
perhaps, art seeking also at a distance that which is near. Maybe for
thee too is beating, somewhere in the chambers of thy slaves, a true and
simple heart. Apply such a balsam to thy wounds. Thou sayest that
Lygia loves thee? Perhaps she does. But what kind of love is that
which abdicates? Is not the meaning this,--that there is another force
stronger than her love? No, my dear, Lygia is not Eunice."

"All is one torment merely," answered Vinicius. "I saw thee kissing
Eunice's shoulders, and I thought then that if Lygia would lay hers bare
to me I should not care if the ground opened under us next moment. But
at the very thought of such an act a certain dread seized me, as if I
had attacked some vestal or wished to defile a divinity. Lygia is not
Eunice, but I understand the difference not in thy way. Love has
changed thy nostrils, and thou preferrest violets to verbenas; but it
has changed my soul: hence, in spite of my misery and desire, I prefer
Lygia to be what she is rather than to be like others."

"In that case no injustice is done thee. But I do not understand the
position."

"True, true!" answered Vinicius, feverishly. "We understand each other
no longer."

Another moment of silence followed.

"May Hades swallow thy Christians!" exclaimed Petronius. "They have
filled thee with disquiet, and destroyed thy sense of life. May Hades
devour them! Thou art mistaken in thinking that their religion is good,
for good is what gives people happiness, namely, beauty, love, power;
but these they call vanity. Thou art mistaken in this, that they are
just; for if we pay good for evil, what shall we pay for good? And
besides, if we pay the same for one and the other, why are people to be
good?"

"No, the pay is not the same; but according to their teaching it begins
in a future life, which is without limit."

"I do not enter into that question, for we shall see hereafter if it be
possible to see anything without eyes. Meanwhile they are simply
incompetents. Ursus strangled Croton because he has limbs of bronze;
but these are mopes, and the future cannot belong to mopes."

"For them life begins with death."

"Which is as if one were to say, 'Day begins with night.' Hast thou the
intent to carry off Lygia?"

"No, I cannot pay her evil for good, and I swore that I would not."

"Dost thou intend to accept the religion of Christ?"

"I wish to do so, but my nature cannot endure it."

"But wilt thou be able to forget Lygia?"

"No."

"Then travel."

At that moment the slaves announced that the repast was ready; but
Petronius, to whom it seemed that he had fallen on a good thought, said,
on the way to the triclinium,--"Thou has ridden over a part of the
world, but only as a soldier hastening to his place of destination, and
without halting by the way. Go with us to Achæa. Cæsar has not given
up the journey. He will stop everywhere on the way, sing, receive
crowns, plunder temples, and return as a triumphator to Italy. That
will resemble somewhat a journey of Bacchus and Apollo in one person.
Augustians, male and female, a thousand citharæ. By Castor! that will
be worth witnessing, for hitherto the world has not seen anything like
it!"

Here he placed himself on the couch before the table, by the side of
Eunice; and when the slaves put a wreath of anemones on his head, he
continued,--"What hast thou seen in Corbulo's service? Nothing. Hast
thou seen the Grecian temples thoroughly, as I have,--I who was passing
more than two years from the hands of one guide to those of another?
Hast thou been in Rhodes to examine the site of the Colossus? Hast thou
seen in Panopeus, in Phocis, the clay from which Prometheus shaped man;
or in Sparta the eggs laid by Leda; or in Athens the famous Sarmatian
armor made of horse-hoofs; or in Eubœa the ship of Agamemnon; or the cup
for whose pattern the left breast of Helen served? Hast thou seen
Alexandria, Memphis, the Pyramids, the hair which Isis tore from her
head in grief for Osiris? Hast thou heard the shout of Memnon? The
world is wide; everything does not end at the Trans-Tiber! I will
accompany Cæsar, and when he returns I will leave him and go to Cyprus;
for it is the wish of this golden-haired goddess of mine that we offer
doves together to the divinity in Paphos, and thou must know that
whatever she wishes must happen."

"I am thy slave," said Eunice.

He rested his garlanded head on her bosom, and said with a smile,--
"Then I am the slave of a slave. I admire thee, divine one, from feet
to head!"

Then he said to Vinicius: "Come with us to Cyprus. But first remember
that thou must see Cæsar. It is bad that thou hast not been with him
yet; Tigellinus is ready to use this to thy disadvantage. He has no
personal hatred for thee, it is true; but he cannot love thee, even
because thou art my sister's son. We shall say that thou wert sick. We
must think over what thou art to answer should he ask thee about Lygia.
It will be best to wave thy hand and say that she was with thee till she
wearied thee. He will understand that. Tell him also that sickness
kept thee at home; that thy fever was increased by disappointment at not
being able to visit Naples and hear his song; that thou wert assisted to
health only by the hope of hearing him. Fear no exaggeration.
Tigellinus promises to invent, not only something great for Cæsar, but
something enormous. I am afraid that he will undermine me; I am afraid
too of thy disposition."

"Dost thou know," said Vinicius, "that there are people who have no fear
of Cæsar, and who live as calmly as if he were non-existent?"

"I know whom thou hast in mind--the Christians."

"Yes; they alone. But our life,--what is it if not unbroken terror?"

"Do not mention thy Christians. They fear not Cæsar, because he has not
even heard of them perhaps; and in every case he knows nothing of them,
and they concern him as much as withered leaves. But I tell thee that
they are incompetents. Thou feelest this thyself; if thy nature is
repugnant to their teaching, it is just because thou feelest their
incompetence. Thou art a man of other clay; so trouble not thyself or
me with them. We shall be able to live and die, and what more they will
be able to do is unknown."

These words struck Vinicius; and when he returned home, he began to
think that in truth, perhaps, the goodness and charity of Christians was
a proof of their incompetience of soul. It seemed to him that people of
strength and temper could not forgive thus. It came to his head that
this must be the real cause of the repulsion which his Roman soul felt
toward their teaching. "We shall be able to live and die!" said
Petronius. As to them, they know only how to forgive, and understand
neither true love nor true hatred.